Whirlwind
by Shotzette
Summary: Alternate ending of the episode Whatever Became of Sal?.


**Whirlwind**

By Shotzette

PG-13

This is only a work of fan fiction, nothing to get excited about. This was written only for amusement and is not intended to infringe upon anyone's copyrights or intellectual properties. Relax.

Alternate canon ending to "Whatever Became of Sal?"

Prologue

_"Laverne please quit singing. I got something important to ask you."_

_"Why do fools fall in love…" she replied, at a pitch that would have made Frankie Lymon weep._

_Sal grabbed her and twirled her around as if to dance. The next thing she knew, his forearm had her pinned against him, her back pressed against his chest. "Laverne. I have a convention in Houston in two days. Come with me," he whispered seductively in her ear, "We can stop off in Vegas and get married."_

_Laverne's alcohol soaked brain spun even faster, "Really?"_

_Sal turned her in his arms and smiled, "I've tried to forget you for the last ten years. I've had a great time trying, but I never was able to do it."_

_Warring with her intellect, she asked, "Why me?"_

_Sal shrugged, "Damned if I can explain it. Why don't you wake up Shirley, and I'll have Carlisle swing by and pick up your father and charter a plane at the airport?" He released her and headed to the door of her apartment._

_She felt a mild flush of irritation at his high handedness, "I haven't said yes…"_

_Sal turned, his eyes earnest and puppy dog-like. Just like they had been ten years ago. "Well?"_

_Laverne couldn't resist. "Why don't I go wake up Shirley, pack a bag, and you can have Carlisle go pick up my pop?_

_Sal hugged her briefly before heading out the door. "You're not going to regret this. I promise…"_

"_No, no, ladies. I can't choose between you, you're both too pretty. I guess you gotta share me," Lenny Kosnowski said, humbly._

"_I've never shared a man with anyone before," Joey Heatherton said, her eyes flashing with passion, "but I'm willing to sacrifice my pride for you, Lenny."_

"_Me too," echoed Twiggy as she snuggled up against him._

"_See, I knew we could work this out," Lenny said as he pulled Joey closer to him for a kiss…"_

"Ewww…" Andrew Squiggman hollered, as he lunged away from his puckering roommate, "Keep your lips to yourself!"

The next sensation Lenny felt was his six foot two frame falling off of his top bunk and colliding painfully with the floor of his bedroom.

"Did I wake you?" Squiggy asked.

Lenny groaned as he picked himself up off of the floor. "Nah, I had to get up to scream anyhow. What's going on?"

"You'll never guess who's taking us to Las Vegas!"

Lenny's heart filled with glee. "Santa Claus?"

"Santa in September?" Squiggy snorted contemptuously. "Hardly. I'm talking about Sal!"

"Sal?" Lenny echoed, his mind a blank.

"Y'know, Laverne's Sal. The guy what she almost married back in Milwaukee."

Lenny blinked in surprise as the memory of a nice guy in a sailor's uniform revived itself. "Oh."

"Oh? That's all you gotta say?"

"No," Lenny said, shaking his head in confusion. "Why?"

Squiggy rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Cuz, that's the fastest place he and Laverne can get married, that's why."

"Why's she marrying him?"

Again, Squiggy rolled his eyes. "I don't know. If she was in trouble, she woulda gone through with it ten years ago."

Lenny furrowed his brow and replied flatly, "She wasn't , and she ain't."

"I don't know, and I don't care," Squiggy replied as he hurriedly began throwing clothes from their battered dresser into a mostly clean garbage bag. "The important thing is Sailor boy is now a rich guy—like my wildest dreams kinda rich. I figure, if we can talk him into being a silent—very silent, to the point of mute—partner in Squignoski Talent Agent of Burbank…"

"S.T.A.B!

"Yeah," Squiggy acknowledged the interruption, "We'll be able to get a real office, and maybe get some real clients—no more animal acts that you have to mop up after." The smaller man's eyes widened and he looked momentarily thunderstruck. "Maybe we can even get him to back our movie, y'know, the one we've been writing since last weekend."

"_Blood Orgy of the Amazons_," Lenny intoned dramatically, "_A Different Kind of Love Story…_"

"Exactly."

"If he's marrying Laverne, why's he taking us to Vegas?" Lenny asked.

Squiggy looked up long enough from his packing to favor him with another exasperated look. "Tradition, you big dope. We was gonna be his ushers the last time he tried to marry Laverne, and when I ran into him in the hall, he seemed to think I was a good omen or something."

"You're an omen all right…" Lenny acknowledged.

"Maybe so, maybe so. That ain't important. We just gotta be downstairs, ready to go to Vegas in the next fifteen minutes."

"Why didn't you say so?" With that, Lenny adjusted his T-shirt, donned his Lone Wolf jacket, and walked out the front door in his pajama bottoms and slippers.

Laverne took a tiny sip of her champagne and forced a brave smile. The bitter carbonation in her mouth was at war with the combination of the sake in her stomach and the turbulence of the small jet. Forcing herself to breath calmly, she looked vainly out the window, trying to focus on the horizon to rid herself of motion sickness. The pitch-black, three in the morning sky was no help.

Turning away, she surveyed the tableau in the cabin. Her father was patting Sal on the back for about the eighth time in the last hour and suggesting names for his future grandchildren. Squiggy was competing for Sal's attention and yammering about some screenplay that he and Lenny had just written. Edna and Shirley were marveling at the lushness of the chartered jet, as Carmine watched them with an amused expression on his face. Lenny sat quietly in the far seat, bizarrely wearing his pajamas and avoiding her gaze. Once again, Laverne pinched herself to make sure that she wasn't dreaming. Her rapidly bruising thigh was a testament to her reality. She was flying of to Las Vegas in the middle of the night to wed her former fiancé, in a private jet funded by his millions. It sounds like a dream, she thought, wistfully.

"Hey," said a voice behind her.

Laverne looked up and reflexively smiled at Sal before he kissed her. Her brow furrowed. He was gorgeous, the kiss wasn't bad; it wasn't too wet, he didn't over-pucker, and his breath wasn't bad. Why didn't she enjoy it more?

"Are you okay, sweetheart? You look a little pale."

Before Laverne could open her mouth to reply, Shirley piped in from across the aisle. "Don't worry, Sal. Laverne just hates flying, that's all."

"She does, eh?" A mischievous grin played along Sal's face and Laverne felt herself blushing at his scrutiny.

"Yep," said Shirley, as she took another sip of her champagne. "She's a big, old scaredy cat, aren't you, Laverne?"

"I ain't scared," Laverne whined. "I just don't like it is all."

"Laverne," her best friend said with a slight slur to her words as she rose unsteadily to her feet, "you've got nothing to worry about…"

"I ain't worried," she said, for once a little embarrassed at the loud volume of her voice. Great, a midnight flight and her best friend slash maid of honor was once again proving that she couldn't hold her liquor worth a damn.

"It's not going to be like the last two times," Shirley said, not skipping a beat and apparently oblivious to Laverne's words, "you're not going to have to land this plane or jump out of it."

"What?" Sal exclaimed and his eyes widening in apparent shock.

Laverne smiled, relieved that the tense knot in her stomach seemed to be easing up. "The plane landing story is too long to tell…"

"Not to mention phony," grumbled Squiggy, who didn't look like he appreciated her garnering all of Sal's attention from himself.

"And the jumping out of the plane story," Laverne continued, so used to Squiggy's interruptions that she didn't even let them slow her down anymore, "happened back when me and Shirl joined the Army."

The shocked look returned to Sal's face. "You were in the Army?"

Laverne grinned as she wrapped her arm around his waist. "Just for a little while," she replied, as she gave him a squeeze, "so I think I we can sit down to an Army/Navy football game without killing each other." She felt irrationally appeased to see the startled look leave his face and his smile return. Smiling Sal, she thought. Such a great guy, so good-looking and rich, he'd make such a wonderful father…

Her eyes met with Lenny's at that moment, and she was struck by the harsh grimness of his expression. Laverne distracted herself with another sip of champagne. Good, she thought. The bubbly tasted better, and her nausea was fading. She must be acquiring a taste for the good stuff.

"As I was saying," Shirley continued shrilly, as she purposefully turned her back towards Squiggy, "You have nothing to worry about, Laverne." Her friend raised her glass to toast, "You don't have to land this plane, or jump out of it. All you have to do is relax and be the bride."

Laverne was barely able to reach the barf bag in time.

Laverne's jaw dropped in dismay as she exited the limo and stepped into the harsh neon realm that was Las Vegas. It can't be, she thought. It had to be one of the cruelest jokes of all time…

She was standing right in front of the Lucky Seven Wedding Chapel. The tacky place where she was stoned out of her mind and nearly married Derek DeWoods of London's Bridges fame. Wordlessly, she allowed Sal to pull her through the garish entry hall.

He had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry, sweetheart," Sal said as he squeezed her arm in reassurance, "this is the only place that could marry us without a reservation tonight."

Mutely, Laverne nodded. Her eyes met Shirley's and part of her was maliciously happy to see that the sight of the place had sobered up her friend but good. Absently, she wondered if Shirley had ever told Carmine of their little pot and Vegas adventure. She dismissed the idea a split second later. She and Shirley didn't even discuss it between themselves on the four and a half hour bus ride back to Burbank. There was no way that Angelface would ever tell her Big Ragoo about that crazy night.

Laverne's fears crystallized when elderly Irma greeted them at the door to he main chapel. "Hello, dear…" the old woman said, her eyes lighting up in recognition when she saw the two girls.

"Hello," Laverne replied in a nasal tone that rivaled Squiggy's. "It's very nice to MEET you, isn't it, Shirley."

"Huh?' The quick elbow jabbing into Shirley's ribs jerked the petite brunette back on track. "Oh, yes. It is. A pleasure to meet you, that is."

Irma winked before nodding knowingly at the two girls as she took Sal's credit card.

The close call made Laverne's plane nausea return with a vengeance. "'Scuse me," she mumbled before racing off to the ladies room.

Afterwards, she blotted her face off with a damp brown paper towel and tried to make sense of it all. Her face, harshly lit by the overhead fluorescent lights looked older than it had this morning. It wasn't the face of a happy bride at all.

Nothing about her was bridal. Laverne looked down in distaste at the teal colored cocktail dress that had been perfect for dinner eight hours ago, but as a wedding gown… Where was the white, okay off-white, dress that she had dreamed about since her high school days? She'd never wanted the combined Elizabeth Taylor/Grace Kelly extravaganza that Shirley had been planning since she was fifteen, but she wanted…something. Something special, in a church, with the people she loved…

Laverne snorted in frustration. She was surrounded by people who loved her, she had to remind herself. Most of all, one of them was ready to marry her just as he had been ten years ago…

So why hadn't they kept in touch? The little part of her brain that had been silenced by the sake and excitement was rapidly awakening. She and Sal had exchanged Christmas cards after they called off their engagements, and he had sent her a birthday card the following spring. Then…nothing. No cards, no phone calls, zip, nada, zed. Until this afternoon of course…

Well, he told her earlier that he had tried to forget her for the last ten years. And, she reflected, she hadn't exactly been sitting home by the phone anyhow. They both had gone on, built new lives, forgot about each other. She was just better at it than he had been, apparently.

Well, no more, she thought angrily as she rinsed out her mouth and re-applied her lipstick. She had a chance to fix her mistake, to marry the first—and only guy who'd ever proposed to her.

Forcing a smile, she walked back out into the entry hall where she was greeted by a beaming Irma holding a garment bag.

"What's that," Laverne asked.

Irma's smile grew wider. "You made the right choice, honey. Your new guy is a prince, not like…" Irma's voice trailed off. "He called ahead and reserved one of our A package gowns—a whole gown, not just a front for pictures like last time."

"That's so sweet," Laverne said, smoothly cutting her off and grabbing the bag out of the older woman's hands. Squinting, she looked in vain for Shirley as Irma steered her towards a dressing room. 'Have you seen my friend?"

"She was a little upset, so that handsome dark haired fellow—don't worry, not YOUR handome dark-haired fellow, took her outside for some air. She really didn't look well." Irma looked up suddenly. "You don't suppose she's…I mean, as you well know, we can throw together a double wedding as quickly as a single.

"She's not, and no thanks," Laverne said shortly as she pushed Irma out of the dressing room.

Moments later, Laverne stood in front of the three quarter length mirror studying her reflection. The dress was so…white. Glaringly so. And itchy. She surveyed the scooped neckline, the A-line long skirt and the tight, capped sleeves that were digging into her upper arms.

It wasn't a dress she would have picked out. She sighed as she looked at the veil with its tiny headband of daisies, and debated putting it on and making herself feel and look worse. Daisies, she thought. The only person she knew who liked daisies was…

"Hello." Lenny's voice was quieter and less nasal than usual, but it startled her nonetheless.

"Jeez!" she shrieked, before turning and swatting at him.

"Sorry! I thought you could just use a little company is all. I'll get out of your way," he mumbled as he turned to leave.

"I'm sorry Lenny." She smiled wanly. "Nerves, y'know?"

He shook his head. "What do you got to be nervous about, Laverne?"

"I'm getting married, here, Len! Everyone is nervous when they're about to get married."

He shook his head. "Nah. I'd be too happy to be nervous."

"Really?"

"Yeah! I mean to have some girl say in front of a bunch of people and God that she's willing to vodey oh do with me till death do us fart? It would be the best day ever!"

"Aw Len," she said, smiling at his words despite herself.

"You look real pretty."

"Nah…"

"Well, okay that bow on the back of your dress makes your keister look big."

"I got a bow? I didn't know I had a bow..." She turned to look behind herself, and wound up chasing her tail like an agitated puppy. " I can't believe he got me a dress with a butt bow. Oh, I gotta get rid of that. Where's Shirley when I need her?"

"You don't need Shirley." With a smile, Lenny reached into the inside pocket of his Lone Wolf jacket and withdrew his pocket tools.

"You brought your pocket tools to a wedding?"

"My old shop teacher always said…" he began

Laverne grinned before chiming in, "…Don't go nowhere without your pocket tools."

"You'll never know when you're gonna get stuck in a pay toilet," they finished in unison, grinning.

"You're a good friend, Len."

His smile lost a bit of its zip. "Yeah, that's me. Good friend, Len."

She ignored the barb. "Seriously. It means a lot to me today that I've got all my friends and family with me."

Lenny's eyes softened. "I—we all want you to be happy, Laverne. Sal's a great guy if he can do that."

"He is a great guy, isn't he?"

Lenny nodded. "Yeah. And he's rich enough to always be able to take care of you."

The remark rankled her. "I ain't marrying Sal for his money."

"I know that. Marrying a rich guy ain't a bad thing. You won't have to go without nothing, Laverne. You're home free."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't like where you're going with this."

"You won't have to work no more, you can just stay home and have kids and not worry about paying the bills or nothing."

"Len, I almost married Sal ten years ago, and didn't have anything back then," she countered.

He shrugged. "Yeah, you almost did. But you didn't."

"It was too soon. I was too young to know what I wanted back then."

"What do you want?

She shrugged. "A family, a house somewhere, a guy who'll be a great dad…"

"You forgot to say anything about love," he said flatly.

"I love Sal, Len! He's a great guy, he's a sweetheart, he's…"

"…gonna be a great dad. Well, then you should be happy. You're getting everything you ever wanted tonight and you're in a nice white dress," he said as he ducked behind her. Laverne felt a tug and heard a small ripping sound. Lenny turned her around and held out a large white satin bow in his hand. "And your butt won't look big in your wedding pictures, he said thickly."

"I love Sal, Lenny." Laverne said, then wondered why she was still trying to make her point.

He nodded blandly as if acknowledging, then dismissing the concept. "As much as you loved Randy?"

Laverne gasped aloud and words failed her, as she felt a resurgence of her earlier nausea.

Lenny clumsily took her hands in his. "I've seen you in love before, Laverne, and I ain't seeing it now."

Laverne felt tears well up in her eyes, and her voice shook with anger. "That is so unfair, Len. How could you? How could you bring up Randy's name today of all days?"

"I'm sorry…" Lenny looked immediately chagrined, as always, as he let go of her hands and stepped away from her.

"I love Sal, and I loved Randy. I just loved them different is all."

"How?"

The question cut to the heart of her agony. "I can't explain it, Len. What me and Sal have needs to grow a bit," she said, embarrassed by the weakness of her response.

"Shouldn't everything be grown by the wedding?"

The childlike tone of his question was the straw that broke the camel's back. "You don't understand," she wailed, as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes.

"Yeah, I don't understand a lot."

"I can't expect love to feel like it did when I was twenty three."

Lenny shrugged. "How about when you was twenty six? You were in love with Sonny, weren't you?"

"That's totally different," Laverne said dismissively as she reached for a Kleenex.

"From Randy, or from Sal?"

"Both. Look Len, Sonny was a terrific guy and all, but he wasn't Mr. Right," she said, forcing patience into her voice.

"Why?"

"We fizzled pretty quickly, y'know? I mean in the beginning, we were crazy for each other."

"Yeah, I remember that part."

The bitterness in his tone didn't escape her notice. "But when we were officially a couple, and then he and I…" Laverne broke off, as her painful feelings of being discarded, yet again, temporarily resurfaced. "Well, it just didn't last too long, did it?"

"But, you did look happy with him."

She smiled, a sad smile that faded quickly. "I was. For a while."

"And you looked real happy when you was with Randy…"

"I don't want to talk about that," Laverne replied, the steel back in her voice. "Come on, Len! How can you do this? I mean, this is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and all you're doing is reminding of the worst day."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry, Vernie. Honest."

"Too late! I'm crying, and my mascara's running, my nose is getting red and, of course, even bigger."

In an instant, he'd brandished a red bandanna from the inner pocket of his jacket. "Here, wipe your nose. I'm sorry, Laverne. I won't say another stupid thing. In fact, I won't say nothing."

She a small chuckle escaped her, despite herself. "It's okay, Len. It's just been a really crazy day, and I'm tired and nervous, and a bunch of other things, too."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"I know."

He favored her with a lopsided and sad smile. "You do look real pretty. Prettier than ever."

"Aw…"

"Be happy, Laverne."

She looked up, surprised by the thick emotion in his voice. The hunger she knew he'd always harbored for her shown in his eyes, along with a more altruistic expression. His generosity moved her, as it always had in the past. Smiling, she leaned up to kiss his cheek, as he leaned down towards her.

Laverne turned her head incrementally and Lenny mirrored her actions. Magnetically, their lips met, in a gentle, tentative brushing. Her first instinct was to pull back, to make a wisecrack about her lousy aim. She leaned further into the embrace instead. She felt her stomach flutter, a sensation different, but no less disturbing, than her earlier nausea. Involuntarily she shivered as she felt Lenny's hands slowly move up her bare arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Laverne's mouth opened in a silent moan and her arms encircled him to pull him closer. Lenny's lips moved against hers, causing her knees to shake. Overwhelmed, she pulled out of the kiss and took a step back.

Lenny's blue eyes opened and focused on her hungrily, his arms still reaching for her.

Behind him, Sal's dark eyes flared in anger.

"You sonova—"

Sal never finished his sentence, choosing instead to whirl the hapless Lenny around to face him before punching him in the face.

"Sal, NO!" Laverne screamed as Lenny crashed heavily to the ground.

Sal tore his gaze away from Lenny's prone form, to glare at her. "How could you? On our wedding day?"

"Sal, I…" Laverne began, but words and reason failed her. "I'm sorry," she offered lamely. "I know it ain't enough, but I am sorry."

"You should be!" Sal railed as he kicked the cardboard dress box across the room.

She flinched at the loud clattering noise, but didn't back down. "Yeah, but not just for this. I'm sorry I accepted your proposal. We ain't ready for this."

Sal's voice rose to a shout, "I don't believe it! I catch you with him, and you break up with me? You've got some nerve!"

His angry words forced the question she'd been avoiding all night. "How do you know what I got? You haven't seen me in ten years, Sal!"

"I thought you were the girl I was still in love with, the one I wanted to marry!"

Laverne shook her head slowly as she regarded the man before her, noting for the first time the desperation in his eyes. "How well did you know me back then? We only went out for a month before you proposed. You wanted to get married in a week since you had to go back to San Diego for your discharge."

He looked at her in wild-eyed disbelief. "I knew enough to think I was in love! What happened to you? I never thought you'd do something like this …"

"I shouldn't have, and I was wrong. I won't blame you if you hate me forever for it."

"Glad I have your permission."

She ignored his sarcasm. "Why did we have to get married tonight, Sal?"

"I told you, I have to be at a trade show in Houston tomorrow—later today, I mean," he amended as he glanced at his gold wristwatch.

"You couldn't have waited for us to put together a real wedding? Or maybe we could have actually dated and gotten to know each other again?"

"I think I know you well enough right now." He was quieter now, his eyes hooded and baleful.

"Is that what you were afraid of?"

"What?"

"We'd get to know each other, find out that neither one of us is perfect?" Her voice sounded small and childlike, even to her.

"You're not in a position to throw stones, Laverne."

"I know. But, this is the first time I've ever thought there was anything wrong about you. Really, until this moment, you've always been "Perfect Sal—the guy I let get away". Now I don't think so."

Sal shook his head slowly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's okay, I'm just figuring it out myself. Everything revolves around you, doesn't it? You decide that you want to get married, and I push aside all of my common sense and good judgment and say okay."

"Common sense and good judgment? That's rich coming from a woman who I just saw swapping spit with this moron."

"Lenny's not a moron," she fired back, her anger growing more on Lenny's behalf than her own. "He's a good guy who was afraid that I was going to make a decision that I'd regret for the rest of my life and tried to talk me out of it. He just went a little too far is all."

"How far would he have gone if I hadn't walked in, Laverne?" Sal asked snidely.

She shook her head. "It's not about Lenny, Sal."

"It is to me!"

"Why am I not surprised to hear that? I'm sorry that I hurt you, first by saying yes, and second by kissing Lenny. You didn't deserve to be hurt that way."

"Damn right."

"Like I told you ten years ago, you deserve to be with someone who's totally in love with you—and that still ain't me."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that I can do without a whore for a wife, Laverne."

She ignored his venom and pressed on. "Why did you want to marry me so badly? I mean, look at you. You're handsome, rich, and usually a nice guy. Why are you so hard up that you would propose to a woman who broke up with you ten years ago, then whisk her and all of her friends away to Vegas in the middle of the night for a wedding?"

"I thought," he growled, "I was marrying the nice, Italian girl that I fell in love with years ago. I was stupid enough to think that we could have a life together and raise a family. I've never been more wrong about anyone in my entire life."

"You're not all that wrong, Sal. I want the same thing—but more. I want to be in love—real love, not puppy love or just glands. I want the love that takes time, maybe even years, to build. I want to know that person, and have them know me before making the biggest decision a person can make."

He laughed, a harsh and ugly bark. "I know you, Laverne. I know you all too well right now, and I'm just very glad I found out what kind of a woman you were before you got your hooks into me any further. You're no better than a tramp shilling drinks at a bar, or one of the bimbos hired to work the convention circuits. I can't believe I thought you were different."

"And I can't believe I once thought you were a catch," she replied, her voice dead of emotion. "Good bye, Sal."

"Go to hell, Laverne."

A groan from the ground stopped Laverne's angry retort. "Owwww…"

"Len?" Laverne crouched down beside him, her cheeks reddening with the realization that she'd all but forgotten about his unconscious self during her exchange with Sal.

"Wha' happened?" Lenny slurred, as he reached for the rapidly swelling bruise on his jaw.

"I happened, you back stabbing loser," Sal said, obviously enjoying watching the other man flinch on the ratty green carpet. "She's all yours, moron."

"You, bastard…" Lenny lurched unsteadily towards Sal, but Laverne pulled him back.

Sal threw open the door to the dressing area and addressed the curious crowd who'd very obviously been eavesdropping. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my most sincere pleasure to tell you that the groom has come to his senses and the wedding is off."

"Laverne?" Shirley said, her voice more squeaky than normal.

"Lenny!" Squiggy bellowed as the ghosts of lost profits danced in his eyes.

"Muffin?" Frank DeFazio's face was gray, and his voice barely a whisper.

"Can anybody get Lenny some ice," Laverne asked, as she watched the purple bruise on his jaw spread.

"You can get some down at the bus station," advised Irma with a scowl, the faux pleasantness no longer evident in her voice. "You should remember how to get there."

Lenny looked in the mirror and grimaced at his reflection, as he fingered the fading bruise on his jaw. One week, and he was starting to look like his old weird looking self again, he thought. It had been a rotten week to be sure, with no one speaking to him. Squiggy was giving him the cold shoulder—when he was there long enough to give it. Usually, his best friend was either working maniacally to line up the next big act, or even more bizarrely, spending time in the apartment—and company of Miss Rhonda Lee.

It was just as well, he reasoned. He didn't need to hear for the umpteenth time how he ruined Squiggy's career, Laverne's future --that one came from Shirley on the bus ride back to Burbank, and Mr. DeFazio's last chance for Italian grandchildren-- the latter insult screamed at him in the Cowboy Bill's parking lot.

He turned his back on the mirror and peered over his shoulder at the worn letters on his jacket. Lone Wolf. The moniker no longer appealed to him. His shoulders sagged at the thought of the one person who hadn't screamed at him yet, the one who had ever reason to. He hadn't spoken with Laverne since Vegas. She'd cloistered herself in the back of the bus, crying quietly on the ride home, and he'd sat near the front as far away from her as possible. Then again, no one had sat near Laverne on the bus. There was always something creepy about a woman in a wedding dress crying her eyes out.

A soft knock on the apartment door garnered his attention. "Hey," Laverne said, as she entered his home without invitation.

"Hey."

Her green eyes flew immediately to his jaw. "You look better."

"I won't let it go to my head, none."

"Lenny—"

"Laverne—"

"I'm sorry," they both said in unison, and then exchanged identical looks of bewilderment.

"I'm sorry Sal punched you," she offered in explanation.

"I deserved it. I'm sorry I ruined your wedding."

"I'm not. I don't know what I was thinking, running off in the middle of the night to marry a guy I barely know. Again."

"You were thinking that you wanted to get married, like you always have."

She shook her head. "No. I was thinking that I didn't want to be alone, and it was my last chance. Just like I was the last time Sal proposed."

"You ain't alone."

"I know, but sometimes I get lonely. I don't think too good when I'm lonely."

"Still, I'm sorry I ruined everything for you."

Her eyes rolled in apparent exasperation. "Lenny, there was nothing to ruin. Me marrying Sal would have been a huge mistake. I'm glad you said what you said."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You are?"

"Yeah," Laverne nodded. You talk real good when you want to."

"Nah," he replied with a guffaw.

"You do," she insisted, "Who got me to go visit my Mama's grave back in Milwaukee?

"Me?"

Laverne nodded. "Who talked me out of moving in with David?" She grinned as he pointed to himself before continuing. "Real friends tell each other the hard things to hear, not just the easy ones."

His smile became bittersweet. "I guess that's why I'm your best guy friend, huh?"

"Yeah." Her smile faded as he turned away from her and absently began to stroke Jeffrey's long tail. "You were right, Len. I deserve to be in love."

"Yeah, Vernie. You do." Lenny continued to force himself to focus on Jeffrey, briefly wondering if the dead and stuffed iguana had ever know what it was to be in love.

"I deserve a great guy too," Laverne added.

"No argument here. You deserve someone who can give you everything you've ever wanted."

She shook her head, surprising him. "No. He don't have to be rich, he'd just have to try to be more tomorrow than he is today. Ambitious, y'know?"

"Yeah." He turned his attention back to Jeffrey's scaly back.

Laverne continued without skipping a beat. "He has to know me—the real me, and that isn't going to happen overnight. I mean, I want someone who's seen me in hair curlers, with cold cream on my face and wearing an old sweatshirt and who hasn't run away screaming."

"You don't look that bad in curlers," Lenny remarked absently as part of him envied the obliviousness of the stuffed iguana in front of him.

"He also has to be honest, honest enough to tell me the truth even when I don't want to hear it."

Lenny nodded, as Jeffrey became blurry and the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

"He'd have to be in love with me, too. Not just lonely, or desperate. But, most importantly," she said as she walked around to face him. Laverne clutched his shoulders to raise herself to his height, "He has to know how to kiss me. Real kisses that give me goose bumps." Her lips pressed softly against his.

Lenny pulled her closer to him instinctively, a pleasant shudder coursing through him as Laverne pressed herself against him. The kiss ended after a long moment, and he looked down at her, trying to reconcile the flushed skin and soft expression with the Laverne who'd kept him at arms length for so many years. "Laverne? I think I know just the guy…"

FIN


End file.
